


The Unseen Connections

by sandalwoodbox



Category: Steerswoman Series - Rosemary Kirstein
Genre: After Book 4: The Language of Power, F/F, Misses Clause Challenge, Post-Canon, Post-Canon for now, Pre-Relationship, Rowan figures out she's bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandalwoodbox/pseuds/sandalwoodbox
Summary: Rowan was supposed to be working with her fellow steerswomen to figure out how one star could become four and then one again – so why couldn't she stop thinking about those elderly women in Donner, and what a lovely couple they were? And when will she see Bel again?
Relationships: Bel/Rowan (Steerswoman)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	The Unseen Connections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pendrecarc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc/gifts).



Two steerswomen stood side by side in a room, the morning light spilling through the tall windows above onto rows of tables behind them.

One of them, an older woman with dark brown skin and blue eyes, said with a twinkle, “If you keep going, we’re going to have to build a second room.” She gestured to the wall in front of them: a concave surface covered from floor to ceiling in detailed markings of towns and cities, mountains and streams, elevations and distances. To the west, the map ended in mountains. To the north, in a desert. To the south, the sea, and a lone outpost of humanity against the blackgrass. And to the east, a broad and empty expanse labeled “The Outskirts”, interrupted only by two paths, one broad, one narrow, that led to Tournier’s Fault and the City of Demons.

The other steerwoman was much younger, maybe thirty years old. She laughed, rubbing absently at her left leg with a pale hand covered in a dozen criss-crossing scars. “Well, Keridwen, none of us are stopping, so maybe we should start planning the renovation.” She scanned the chart wall, feeling her mental map rebuild itself to the new specifications since her last visit, five years ago. There were the changes from Zenna’s route on the Shore Road, and Ingrud’s along the Upland Route. There were even some new details on the fjords surrounding The Crags which must have come from Berry and her husband. And dozens of other small changes from all the steerswomen spread across the Inner Lands.

She stepped out of the brass rectangle that marked the best viewing angle of the master chart. 

“Maybe we should,” Keridwen said. “I’ll have to speak with the Prime about it –” she caught herself. “Ah… that’s me now. I’ll find time to look into it.” She looked up, sorting her schedule in her mind. “After the Academy, it seems like.” Her piercing gaze turned once more on the other woman. “I hope you’ll be able to make it, Rowan. Right now the plan is for Donner.”

* * *

Donner. Rowan couldn’t get it out of her head. Finally, progress on understanding magic, finding at least a part of a language shared between wizards and steerswomen. Finally, a picture of what Slado actually looked like. Finally, the reason the Guidestar fell, for all the good it did her. But that wasn’t what occupied her mind.

Here she was in the Archives, working with her fellow steerswomen and steersmen to find an answer to what could cause a star to become four stars and then one again. But the thing her mind kept drifting back to was Lorren and Eamer, the ancient women who had been the wizard Kieran’s gardeners in Donner, half a century ago.

They were a lovely couple. But surely she’d seen other couples as lovely, so why would this one strike her so deeply?

Their age? Surely remarkable, but just a fact, part of the order’s tracking of life expectancy. Their names were not special. Their connection to Kieran was fascinating, but just a side note in her investigation. Their love for each other? But she’d known other old couples with a similar enduring love. Their shared gender? But she knew from her training that customs varied wildly, that there were parts of the Inner Lands where same-gender relationships were common and others where they weren’t.

Common… She let the noise in the room fade away. Her mind ran back over the couples she’d met in Donner, in Alemeth, in all of her journeys since leaving the Archives, since starting her studies, since she could remember knowing what a relationship even was. Of course there were the relationships she knew of or suspected that included wizards, but their coercive nature led to them being quickly dismissed as irrelevant.

And out of all of the relationships remaining, she couldn’t find a single one that included people of the same gender apart from Lorren and Eamer. Common? Not in her experience. But everything steerswomen knew was true, and steerswomen – at least at the time of her training – had known that same-gender relationships were common in some parts of the Inner Lands. Possibilities were three: the frequency of same-gender relationships had changed over time, such that what was once true no longer was; or she had never been to a place other than Donner where same-gender relationships were common; or she had coincidentally never met anyone other than Lorren or Eamer in such a relationship. Well, if the question wasn’t going to let her go, she might as well talk with Sarah about it. She sighed and let her eyes focus back onto the room in front of her.

On a worktable covered in charts and figures. On the three steerswomen viewing her expectantly. In total silence.

She shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?”

* * *

“Sarah, when I was training as a steerswoman, you taught us that the customs around same-gender relationships had a large variation between different parts of the Inner Lands. Do you know if they could have become less common over time? Or what areas they might be less common in?”

Sarah considered the question as they strolled through the herb garden. Rowan couldn’t help but think of the last time she was here, when she first brought Bel to the Archives, and woke in the morning to find her and Henra sitting on a bench trading songs.

After a moment, Sarah said, “Hm, well, there is variation in customs, and they do change over time… but according to our records, same-gender relationships have been common throughout the Inner Lands for all of recorded history.”

That was not what she’d expected to hear. “If they’ve always been common, then what is the variation?”

“In how relationships are started, how they are carried out, whether they are monogamous, how they are recognized in the community. But the gender of the people involved is not a factor. The one exception…” Sarah got an odd look on her face as she looked at Rowan. “The one exception has always been towns on the edge of the Inner Lands; same-gender relationships have always been somewhat less common there. Though still not considered taboo.” A pause, then, “You’re from the North, aren’t you? I know we talked about it when you left the Steerswoman for a time, but I don’t remember the details. From your speech I’d say you grew up on the Long North Road?”

Rowan nodded. “That’s correct, in Umber. I suppose that would explain why I didn’t meet any same-gender couples growing up, but it wouldn’t explain why I haven’t met anyone who’s attracted to the same gender since attending the Academy in Wulfshaven. Apart from one couple in Donner.”

Sarah’s eyebrows rose. “You believe you haven’t even met someone who’s _attracted_ to the same gender apart from a single couple? How do you know?”

Rowan opened her mouth to give an answer, but couldn’t find one. She stood there, stunned, eyes flickering back and forth as Sarah waited patiently, letting her work through it herself.

It’s the most basic principle of Steerswomen: only say what you know to be true. And what she had just said so confidently – she _didn’t_ know it to be true. She had never known. She could have easily met someone attracted to the same gender but never realized it, because she hadn’t even considered it a possibility. She had never asked.

And then a darker thought: had she ever led someone astray? Told a lie she didn’t even know she was telling, by omitting an entire group of people from her vision of the world? There was no way to know. Over the past nine years of travel, she had thousands of conversations; as good as her memory was, she couldn’t remember them all.

Finally her steerswoman training kicked in, cutting off her line of thought: _if the evidence contradicts your worldview, verify the evidence, and then adjust your worldview_.

“I don’t know whether I’ve met anyone who’s attracted to the same gender, apart from that one couple. Possibilities are two: Either I haven’t, or I have but didn’t recognize the fact.” She glanced at Sarah. “What do you think are the chances of the first one?”

“A number of steerswomen fall into that category, so I’d say the chances are… well, nonexistent.”

“Who?” In many contexts, this might be too personal a question, but among steerswomen, relations and relationships were considered public knowledge. Which again begged the question of how she could have missed it.

Sarah snorted. “I could go for a while; do you want a full list, or just the ones I think you know best?”

“Just the ones I know best.”

Sarah considered for a moment, then said, “Henra, Ingrud, and Keridwen.”

The former Prime, one of Rowan’s classmates from the Academy onward, and the first steerswoman Rowan had ever met. The only reasonable conclusion was that she had a hole in her awareness the exact size and shape of this particular subject.

They meandered along the flagstone path towards the Archives. As they approached the door, Sarah broke the silence. “I read through your logbooks from your time in the Outskirts – the tradition with the offerings at the tent flap was fascinating – but you didn’t say anything about the Outskirters’ thoughts on gender and sexual attraction. Apart from the Face People, but they’re clearly not representative of the majority.” She glanced sideways at Rowan. “I’m guessing you didn’t ask them about it?”

Rowan shook her head, ashamed.

Sarah nodded and smiled slightly. “Next time you see that Outskirter friend of yours, be sure to ask.”

 _When she next saw Bel_. When might that be?

It wasn’t a new question for her. The last time they had separated, they had been apart for two years – Bel organizing the Outskirts to prepare for their rise against the wizards, and Rowan first finding her way to the Annex in Alemeth, then searching for the location of Slado’s stronghold. Every day in Alemeth, she wondered whether that would be the day that Bel would arrive and they would be reunited – but given the distance and the nature of Bel’s task, it was impossible to know.

When she finally did arrive, Rowan was already gone to the demon lands. Bel had to press boats into service at swordpoint and walk through wild lands that were mostly blackgrass to find Rowan and bring her safely back to Alemeth. Those months together, recovering from her ordeal with Bel’s help while Zenna and Steffie cleaned and organized the Annex with the help of the entire town, had been some of the most pleasant in her life.

But in the end she had found the clue she needed to continue her search for information on the Guidestar, which lead her and Bel to Donner, which lead to them meeting Willam again, which lead to Bel finding out that at least three more tribes had been killed with Routine Bioform Clearance, and that people of the Krue were living in the Outskirts, possibly as spies for the wizards.

So Rowan’s friend had left for the Outskirts a few weeks ago, with some new verses to write for her poem. And the next time they met could be years from now, during an assault on Slado’s stronghold. Or it could be, as Bel had insinuated on their parting, that they’d only meet again in death.

Bel could be dead now, already. Slado could have struck her down with killing heat without her even having a chance to raise her sword against him. He could have killed everyone and everything in the Outskirts, with no sign of the massacre in the Inner Lands but some strange weather along the border.

Rowan swallowed and told herself to stop imagining possibilities and stick to wishing that Bel was here with her now.

* * *

Keridwen gave Rowan a close embrace, then held her by the shoulders for a moment, eyes shimmering. “I wish you well on your journey, Rowan. These are strange times we’re in. But I trust we’ll find the answers we’re looking for.”

Rowan smiled back and reached up to squeeze Keridwen’s hand lightly. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. And I’ll find out everything I can while I’m in The Crags.”

Keridwen smiled and turned back towards the Archives. Rowan reached for her pack, then paused. “Keridwen?”

Keridwen turned to face her. “Yes?”

“I… wanted to ask you something, if it’s all right.”

“Of course, what is it?”

Rowan’s face flushed. “While I was here at the Archives, I learned that there was a… flaw in my thinking. Ever since I was a child.” She quickly explained the story of the couple in Donner and her conversation with Sarah. “I’m wondering if a lack of exposure at a young age could have been a factor. When you were in Umber, do you know if there were any adults who were attracted to people of the same gender? Or in same-gender relationships?”

Keridwen sat down on a bench by the main entrance and patted the seat beside her. “Hm… let’s see… Ah yes, I remember Umber.

“I visited, oh, maybe seventeen years ago? It was a cold winter, but everyone in the village came out to greet me. I think for the most part it was the standard questions – what news of the world, what was the best way to handle irrigation of fields – and I was just asking about everything I saw, like a good steerswoman does. What were people growing? How often did the winter lodge get used, and for what kinds of events? Why isn’t there a graveyard in the town? Why do you plant a tree on every grave? I believe I spent a fair amount of time with an old man who claimed to be able to predict bad weather by the pain in his knee – that turned out to be true, which I wasn’t expecting.

“But regarding your question – I didn’t see any same-gender couples. And of the people I talked to, I don’t recall any reporting strong attraction to the same gender or past same-gender relationships. If you want to know exactly, you could check my logbooks.”

Rowan, sitting down, nodded. “I could, but I’d rather talk to you in person than through a book.”

“While you still can, eh?” Keridwen tapped her finger on her knee, as she often did when thinking back on the past. “Mostly what I remember from that trip is that there was a young girl with sandy hair who followed me around from the moment I was there, not saying a single word, just listening to every single thing and absorbing it all. And then the questions!” She laughed. “It was like seeing myself at that age. Finding people who have a taste for seeking the truth behind what we see was always my favorite part of the job.”

Rowan remembered the same thing from that visit: a sense of recognizing a kindred spirit, someone who was different from everyone else in Umber in a way that she herself was also different. There had been almost a beauty to the way Keridwen had moved through the hall with efficient steps and an all-consuming hunger for knowledge. “It was like seeing myself at your age for me, too.”

Keridwen laughed again. “I think I actually still have a note you wrote me, somewhere.”

“I wrote you a note?” Rowan blinked. “I forgot that.”

“You left it in my pack sometime before I left. You thanked me for coming to Umber and told me you’d study hard and see me at the Academy in four years. As if you hadn’t already told me that several times towards the end of the night.” Keridwen shrugged. “I didn’t know whether you would make it, but it was cute.”

“What was cute?”

“Well, at the time, it seemed like you had a… bit of a crush on me. It happens sometimes, with children. Often they don’t even understand what they’re feeling. It’s cute to see someone so young learning something about themselves.” Keridwen hesitated. “Though as an outside observer, you can’t read too much into it at that age.”

“Yes, of course.” _They don’t even understand what they’re feeling_. “Well, I’d better get on the road.” Rowan stood and shouldered her pack. “Thank you for letting me take up your time, Keridwen.”

The older woman nodded and smiled up at her. “Any time, Rowan. Safe travels.”

* * *

It was years later that Rowan finally got the chance to do as Sarah had suggested, when the forces opposing Slado’s dominion gathered at Artos’s estate north of Wulfshaven. Some came from the Inner Lands: Artos’s retainers, citizens from Donner and Alemeth, the crew of the _Graceful Days_ and the _Morgan’s Chance_ , among others. And they were joined by the remaining tribes of Outskirters, Bel among them.

In all the chaos of arrivals and preparations for the banquet that Artos was throwing – because, he said, forging bonds between the fighters would be as important to the coming conflict as their swords – Rowan wasn’t able to find her friend until it was already time to take their seats for dinner. The conversation she had imagined seemed ill-suited for the chaotic dining hall, filled to bursting with people of all sorts who were swapping tales of travel and hopes for the future.

Once dinner was over, an Outskirter stood and performed a poem. Then another did the same. Then, in a ripple, the call went out for Bel. She stepped onto her chair and waited for silence before beginning her tale, well known to the Outskirters but new to the people from the Inner Lands. And some parts new to Rowan, as well.

But Bel still ended it the same way, with the telling of her names. In the uproar that followed, she stepped back – and quietly slipped out of the hall.

 _Probably to stand guard_ , Rowan thought, and followed. She caught up to the Outskirter just outside the front door. As she’d guessed, Bel was standing with her back to a shrubbery, gazing down across the long lawn, covered now in a sea of tents.

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “You don’t have to be out here on your own.”

Bel looked over at her, and her eyes were full of fire. “There are so many people dead because of Slado, Rowan. My people, your people, the demon-people. So many, and all for nothing but his own pride! It’s not fine.”

Rowan spread her arms wide. “I’m sorry, I misjudged the situation. Would you like my company?”

Bel nodded. “Of course, Rowan. I’m sorry. It’s good to see you.”

Rowan came to stand beside her. After a moment, she said, “Could I talk with you about something?”

“What is it?”

Rowan hesitated. “I have a question about Outskirter customs.”

The corners of Bel’s mouth twitched once, twice, and then she broke out laughing. “It’s good to see you’re still a Steerswoman, Rowan, even with all this. What would you like to know?”

Rowan felt the words spill out of her barely under her control. “What are the Outskirter customs around same-gender relationships?”

Bel regarded her with surprise. “You don’t know?”

“Why would I know?”

Bel shrugged. “Attraction is attraction for us, regardless of gender. You lived among us for so long, I assumed you would have seen something, or asked someone.”

Rowan grimaced. “Same-gender attraction is common in the Inner Lands as well, but I apparently subconsciously never allowed myself to see evidence of it until meeting Lorren and Eamer in Donner.”

“Until Donner?” Bel nodded slowly. “That does explain it, I suppose.”

“Explain what?”

Bel looked her straight in the eyes. “Why you never seemed to notice I was flirting with you.”

Rowan felt a heat rising in her cheeks and gave thanks that it was too dark for Bel to see it.

“Flirting with me?” she managed to say at last.

A hearty laugh. “For someone so observant, you certainly miss the most obvious things.”

“But you’ve only ever been interested in men,” Rowan said, then hastily added, “That I’ve seen.” And added again, “Though perhaps I didn’t see you being interested in women because I wasn’t expecting to see it.”

Bel snorted and turned back to look down the lawn. “Do you remember how we met, Rowan?”

“Of course. We were at a tavern – I was looking into the shards of the Guidestar, and you were there telling stories and wearing the belt your father gave you, and I pulled you away from a handsome field hand to ask you some questions, and then you came with me because you wanted to see what the Inner Lands were like for a while.”

Bel laughed again. “I suppose that’s not wrong, exactly, but it’s not how I would tell it.”

“I’ve _heard_ you tell it. Many times now! And you’ve certainly never mentioned _flirting_ ,” Rowan objected.

Bel shook her head impatiently. “Because the story you’ve heard was composed to rouse my people against the wizards. My personal life was irrelevant.” She turned to face Rowan. “So let me tell you about the night we met. My war band was relaxing in an Inner Lands tavern. A handsome field hand was making his case that we should go back to his bed together. He was enamored with me because I seemed exotic and dangerous and he wanted to be able to tell his friends he’d bedded the wild barbarian woman. I wouldn’t have minded. He seemed like he’d be fun enough for a night. But then I was called upon to tell the tale of Garryn’s pyre. And afterwards, as he was helping me down off the chair…” She paused. “Out of nowhere, a handsome woman came up to me, like nobody I’d met before. She was asking me strange questions, even though I clearly had other things on my mind. She told me she was a steerswoman, and to be sure, I was curious to meet one of those. I thought I’d get more enjoyment out of just a conversation with her than a whole night with that field hand. And who knew where things might go from there?

“And I certainly made the right choice. This woman, she treated me like she would anyone else, asking her endless questions and letting me ask what I wanted as well. She had honor, even if it was different than mine. The longer I talked with her, the more entranced I became, until at last I offered to let her come with my war band on her path to Dust Ridge. She had other plans, so I asked if I could go with her instead. Not for good wine or to scout the Inner Lands for conquest, certainly not to spend the next decade helping upset the balance of the entire world. I went with her because I thought she was fascinating and I hoped we might fall in love.”

After a moment, Rowan realized that Bel wasn’t saying anything else, and that she herself hadn’t breathed for some time. She took a deep one, then said, “And did you fall in love with her?”

“Yes. But it’s the funniest thing, she didn’t seem to even notice, no matter how obvious I was about it. But she was a good friend and an honorable woman, and the work she was doing was too important to both our people to allow her to fail, so I stayed by her side nonetheless.”

“And… are you still in love with her?”

“Am I still in love with you?” Bel glanced away. “It’s funny to me, sometimes, that Steerswomen say that Outskirters are direct. Among the tribes, you would never ask someone that question until after they _accepted_ your offering. And you haven’t even _left_ one.”

“I’m sorry, I can take the question back.”

“No. Truth is life for a steerswoman; I would never keep it from you.” Bel looked at her again. “Of course I love you as a friend, Rowan. I’ve spent a long time honoring that friendship and not allowing myself to expect anything else. If you’re just wondering about the way I feel – I would need time to adjust, but yes, I am still in love with you. If you’re saying that you want something else from me – you can find my door. And you should know I won’t be had cheaply.”

And Bel turned and walked into the darkness before Rowan could say another word.

Rowan’s knees felt weak, so she let herself slump down to the ground and stare down the length of the lawn. She barely even registered that she had leaned back against the shrubbery, that its stiff branches were poking all up and down her back. After a few minutes, she just started laughing, not knowing what else to do. Finally, gasping for breath, she spoke into the night. “I guess I’d better find some offerings.”

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally made a sort of unofficial sequel to this - check out [The Song in the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146048) if you liked this story!
> 
> Thank you to Rhea314 for being a wonderful beta!


End file.
